Peach Trees
by Silver Renagade
Summary: This is a completely AU DAZR where Dib is a 23 year old novelist and Zim is a 14 year old bum. Then magic happens. :3 [DAZR] Everyone in this belongs to Jhonen Vasquez
1. Chapter 1

It was a fine summer's day that had brought the novelist out for a walk through the bright and blossoming park. He hummed to himself quietly as he walked, so as not to disturb any others that might be out. Luckily, he was alone, which meant he wouldn't be bothered too much. Settling down on one of the many green benches, he leaned back and made himself comfortable, enjoying the fresh air immensely.

There was a gentle breeze that ruffled through his dark hair, blowing strands across his face, but he didn't mind. Maybe it'd tame that scythe-like locke that stood proudly atop his crown. A small chuckle escaped him at that thought. His hair had been that way since he was very little, it had just grown longer as he aged.

Sighing, he looked at the black messanger bag that sat beside him, the small edge of his spiral sticking out from it. He really needed to work on the latest story of his, but he hadn't had any inspiration in a long while.

"Bah...not like that would fly with my publisher."

A loud yelp caught his attention as he jumped a little in surprise. Turning his head in the direction of the sound, he craned his neck to get a better view. What he found not only shocked him...but he became a bit confused as well. The sight he was faced with was a strange looking teen...about 14 or 15...fighting with a cat over what appeared to be the scraps from a tuna or maybe turkey sandwich. Frowing, the man stood and approached the two, watching the cat hiss at him and running off with the sandwich. All that was left for the teen-which he hungrily ate-was a small corner of bread. The boy glared up at him.

"Why'd you chase him off? A few more minutes and I would have had that sandwich!" The man just stared down at the teen. Up close the boy was scrawny, barely on the edge of what someone could consider "healthy". Up close, the boy reminded him greatly of the hungry cat that had just scurried off, hissing and growling in anger. "What do you have to say for yourself, chasing away a person's meal?" Standing, the teen glared up at him. He wasn't very tall, the man took notice.

"Well, maybe you should try eating something remotely healthy for you." He glared right back, crossing his arms. "Just because you are so cheap that you'd rather dig from a garbage than by food doesn't mean you should try and steal a meal from an animal." He was going to go on but the teen held up a hand, quieting him.

"First of all, I'm not cheap. Actually, I'm quite poor and without a home. Second of all, that cat had plenty to eat before hand. He could have afforded to share with me." He pouted, crossing his thin arms and cocking a hip girlishly in annoyance. "Besides, what right do you have to tell me what I can and can't do? I don't remember hearing anything about you being president of me." He pointed a clawed finger at the older man, who simply watched him with dull interest.

"If you're so poor, why don't you head down to the shelter?" People like the teen, who mooched off of society, really pissed him off. They had no excuse for stealing from human or animal for the simple reason that they DID have a shelter that was very well stocked. The mayor payed for it himself, and he was a RICH man. "Not only do they have food, but they have a contraption called a SHOWER, which, by the way, you could use." Sneering, he turned around and began walking out of the park. "Whatever. What you do is none of my buisness." He waved him off heading for home. The teen, however, had other plans. He caught up with the man walking off, a glower on his face.

"I DON'T go there because I CAN'T." He said, walking backwards to keep eye contact with the taller one, the anger never leaving his pink eyes. "I CAN'T because they've kicked me out."

"Well, if THEY kicked you out than maybe you should be out on the street. You had to have done something wrong to have been kicked out of a SHELTER." He snorted, looking away from the angry teen, which only heightened the teen's fury.

"They kicked me out," he snarled, "because a guy there didn't like me." He glared up at him. "Because APPARENTLY I'm gay." He stopped in front of the man, causing him to stop as well. "And if you have such a problem with my smell and the way I live, why don't you do something about it? Complaining won't do you any good." He crossed his arms once more, sneering. "Or are you too much of a pussy to? Bet you're reeeaaaal anal about the cleanliness of your white carpets and furniture, huh?" He watched as the man passed by him with a shove.

"Get out of my face, you filthy cat." He turned to face him. "Scram! Go on! Get!" He made shoo-ing motions with his hands. "Get out of here you mangy stray." With that, he spun on his heels and headed home, not caring if the boy had anything else to say.

Glaring after the man, the boy simply turned, stopping when his eyes fell on a book bag resting in a bench seat. He watched it for a few minutes to see if anyone claimed it before running towards it, his hand instantly diving into it's bowels to search through it's contents. He pulled out a small spiral and a nice looking pen, setting them aside. That wasn't what he was searching for. A happy squeam escaped his lips as his hand found what it had sought for, pulling a black wallet from the bag. Tossing the fabric to the side of the bench, he unzipped the wallet and his face fell in dissappointment.

"It belongs to that ass," he grumbled, looking the picture over. "Huh...Dib Membrane...23 years old. Well no wonder he's a dick." From the boy's experience, anyone between 13 and 29 were all assholes. Condensending, judgemental and disdainful fucks who couldn't do anything but bitch and complain. His eyes settled on the spiral at his side, watching it for a moment before pulling it over and resting it on his lap, his claws fluttering the pages by, stopping randomly here and there to read what was written.

"Under the moon's silvery light came a hushed voice. A quiet voice unlike that of his own. Blue eyes traced away from the stars to star at the man beside him, his cheeks flushing...huh. So he's a writer?" The boy tapped a claw to his chin thoughtfully, reading the rest of the page through half-lidded eyes. "I haven't heard of him...He's not bad. A little sappy, but not bad." Humming, he placed everything neatly back into the bag, memorizing the address on his photo ID. He felt like he should return it.

Standing on lanky legs, he headed out of the park, looking both ways before crossing the busy street. Reading the street signs and appartement numbers, he finally found the one that the man named Dib lived in.

"If he's an author...why does he live in an apartment?" Shrugging he began the climb to the seventh story, keeping his eyes on the numbers of the rooms. "289." He stopped in front of the door, his hand hovering above the oak before giving three quick knocks. He rocked from heel to toe while he waited for an answer, whistling slightly. He grinned when the man peeked out at him from behind the oak door. "I've brought you bag and I don't bite." The teen held the black leather out to Dib, the grin never leaving his face.

"My...my bag?!" Flinging the door open fully, he snatched the bag, his eyes wide in surprise. "I forgot my bag?" He looked back at the teen before sighing. "Thank yo---wait!" He leaned back, looking down at him skeptically. "How the hell did you know it was mine?" He instantly began rummaging through his stuff, making sure everything was still in place.

"I didn't take anything!" Zim pouted again, his arms crossing. "The least you could do is say a PROPER thank you. Or is your foot wedged to far up your ass for you to take the time to thank a STRAY like me?" He glowered at the man. Glaring, Dib reached out and drug the boy in, throwing him up against a wall and pinning his wrists above his head with one hand.

"Listen, you mangey house cat," the man snarled, leaving no time for the boy to protest. "I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone, even if they're filthy fucking rich. Because even if they have all the money in the world they'd STILL steal from a bag left in the park." He growled a little, his face inches away from the boys. "Why don't you give me your name?" The teen was far to surpised and dazed from the impact to the wall to protest.

"Z-zim..." he managed.

"Alright then ZIM." He pressed his lips roughly against the teen's, holding the boy there for a few moments before breaking off. "Thank you," he snarled between his teeth before shoving Zim back out the door. "Now get lost." With that, the oak door slammed in the black haired teen's face, leaving him outside and alone once again. His tummy grumbled but he didn't notice as he moved his claws to tenderly caress his lips.

And that was how the 14 year-old boy recieved the first kiss of his life. And that was when the 14 year-old boy fell in love.

For the first time ever.


	2. Chapter 2

He followed his feet idly, humming lightly to himself. His head and his hips swayed from side to side as his eyes watched his feet, one before the other, in a persistent line down the maple-framed lane. A smile was on his face as he wandered, turning down the street that lead to his house. His gaze traced from the cement to the numbers on the apartments. He already knew which staircase that lead to his humble abode, but he watched anyway.

Hopping up the steps, one by one, his grimy black hair bouncing with each step, he went round and round up the spiral staircase, passing by each ledge that led to another door before finally finding himself in front of that certain oak. His smile widened sweetly as he found a spot on the metal platform, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his cheek upon them. Yes, he'd never see him. Yes, he'd never know he sat there, day in and day out. But the teen didn't care.

He had watched the man from afar for a week, carefully mapping out his schedule. In naked truth, he secretly hoped the novelist would find him there, just so he could look up at his pale face and grin lewdly at the scowl that would surly paint itself across the human features, the long elegant fingers pointing accusingly at him while he reprimanded him for dragging his filth near his room.

Chuckling, even cackling to himself, he stood. His small butt was beginning to grow sore from sitting there every day. Maybe he'd take a day off today, go and wander around the park or maybe town square. Maybe he'd stow away onto a ship and be carried off across the sea. Maybe he'd be stolen away by some dirty old hermit and never see the light of day again.

Maybe he'd just window shop for a while.

His ruby gaze from behind pink contacts trailed over the many trinkets with yearning attention. He smiled placidly. His claws laced behind his him rested in the curve of his back as he idly marched his way down the boulevard, minding to himself. Half-lidded eyes gazed over all the merchandise in the many shops, yearning for each and every item he spotted. He used to walk into the many candy shops around the city, but after a while the clerks began to remember that he had no money and would chase him out like some sort of stray cat.

That's when he recognized the proud scythe-like lock of raven hair sitting proudly atop the large cranium of the author who owned the apartment he sat outside of everyday. Sitting in a quaint coffee shop, he spoke with a business woman, his grand hand gestures perfectly accented by his gossamer digits that flared regally with each sweep of his palm, each twist of his thin wrists under black wool. Two black coffees sat before the two humans, steaming excessively. The boy couldn't help the little bit of drool that slid down his chin, his arm quickly raising to wipe it off on the worn sleeve of some coat the shelter had given him. Whether he was drooling over the warm coffees or the even warmer man sitting at the small marble table was hard to tell. If you didn't know the teen, it was hard to tell why he was drooling at all.

Adverting his eyes, he continued his trek across the metropolis. At the next crosswalk, however, he stopped. He didn't know the city as well as he would like and was slightly afraid that he'd lose himself whilst wandering aimlessly through the dimly lit streets. Turning to glance back at the path he came from he quickly ducked around a corner as his man exited from the coffee shop, a small package in hand. Biting his lip, he carefully watched through the window of the café next-door as the lithe human form made its way towards his position. He cursed to himself, frantically searching for a place to hide. Before he had a chance to turn and run, however, the low familiar voice of the writer chimed in a sadistic tone.

"Well, hello Zim." Amber eyes glinted with cruel and malicious intentions. "Fancy meeting you here." He approached the small body, the vindictive smirk never leaving his face as his black boots clacked on the pavement behind the teen. A graceful hand extended from his svelte shape, his fingers caressing the boy's chin between their tips, tilting the soft face of the teen towards him, catching his line of vision.

Zim helplessly looked back at the man, biting his tongue. Though he knew he would only be contradicting himself if he thought it, but he didn't think he wanted to be there for much longer. The finger tips that rested upon his skin caused ripples to run through him, creating a wave of numbness to race through his superior veins. To his surprise, he found himself mirroring the malevolent smile on the pale lips of his aggressor. Sadism was contagious.

"Why would you care to know," came his curt response, standing to his full height favored over the previous cowering that his feminine form had taken. It was nothing to be astonished by as the flat of his head only raised to meet with the collar bone of the male standing before him, but if he looked brave, he felt brave. Of course that didn't really matter as he only felt as brave as he actually was. His claws were shivering lightly. The man seemed to consider his question momentarily.

"You know…you're right." He leaned in close, his delicate lips twisting to form a far more devious grin, revealing stunning and inviting teeth. "Actually, I don't care to know..." Tilting his head, he closed his mouth in a look of contemplation as he slowly backed away from the teen. "…I _demand_ to know." A hand tore through the air to capture one of the teen's fragile wrists, pulling him forcibly against him, his other hand seizing the small waist of the boy, clutching him close. All of Zim's nerve melted away, replaced by confusion, surprise, fear and…_something_ else with that simple touch to his body. It sent fire through over his skin, his face warming excessively and at first he worried that he had come down with a fever. Maybe he was allergic to the man's touch…

"I…I was…" What was he doing? What was he trying to comprehend? What was happening? Where was he exactly? "…what was the question again….?" His gaze stayed locked with the taller being's. He felt like hiding. Crawling into a hole and refusing to come out. He felt like being put under novocain to cease this burning sensation he felt. To be sedated so as to black out the reality around him. The man above him only smirked.

"Whatever." He let the boy go, moving his hands into the deep pockets of his jeans. Laughing, he turned and headed for his home, leaving Zim to stand in the middle of the avenue, unsure of where to go. After a few moments, he found himself chasing after the novelist, a deep glare on his face. Extending an arm, he quickly grasped the man's wrist, lacing his fingers around it carefully but forcefully enough to stop the writer. Amber eyes turned their malicious look back upon the teen. "What?"

"Don't just walk away," the teen huffed. "What the hell was that kiss back at your apartment for?" Zim mentally kicked himself. That wasn't the question he wanted to ask. Then again, the question he _wanted_ to ask wasn't exactly as appropriate as he would have liked. He kept his gaze locked with the man's amber eyes.

"I just felt like it." The novelist shrugged. "Is it that big of a deal?" Dib narrowed his eyes, looking down his nose at the teenager. Zim just stood there, his mouth a frown as he tried to work things out in his head.

"Well…well…" Zim looked away. What was it he wanted…? Why was he having such a hard time remember the actual question he had for the man? Snarling, he darted his head back in the author's direction. "Dib, right?" The man nodded, sneering. "Well, Dib." His gossamer hand slipped from the thin wrist, only to point a long claw in the man's face. "You should try to be a lot more respecting of those around you." He smirked, crossing his arms and leaning back. "You have bad people skills." Sure, not the greatest comeback, but it worked.

"Oh really?" Dib glared at him intensely, the leather on his arms stretching slightly as the man visibly tensed. "From my popularity with the people, I would have to argue with that statement." Grinding his teeth a little, he graced Zim with his malicious smile once again. "And that says a lot more than what you're spouting, mangy stray."

"Just because you're popular," the teen deadpanned, "doesn't mean you interact well with others." With that he spun on his heel, leaving the man to watch his back as it walked away, his hips swaying from side to side. Dib sneered disgustedly.

"What a dirty alley cat." Dib shrugged and turned around, heading home.


	3. Chapter 3

Ruby gaze behind pink contacts fixated on the ad in the window. Dib Membrane would be having an autographing session today at noon. He glanced at the clock. Ten 'til ten. He narrowed an eye at the ad before shrugging and walking off. He was too hungry to care at the moment and he was sure he could be back before noon. Either it took him no time at all to find food or there wasn't any food to be found, so either way he'd be ready.

After finding half a bologna sandwich he headed to the park for a nap. His feet carried him across the grass covered field, but he wasn't heading for the bench like normal. Glancing around, he found a spot in the lake perfectly hidden and decided that maybe he should go take a dip. He entered the public bathrooms first and grabbed a handful of soap, carrying it out and to his small area. He stripped completely and looked cautiously at the water.

He had never been to fond of the liquid, though it was unclear as to why, but he always seemed to make sure he was no where near it. When it rained, he lived in the bathrooms for a while until it stopped. When the sprinklers in the park went off to keep the grass green, he'd go hang out on the benches. Carefully, he dipped a few toes into the water, holding them there for a second. He sighed in relief before the burning actually set in. Letting out a sharp yelp, he pulled himself away from the lake water, frowning.

"What the hell…?" Getting onto his knees, he bent forward and looked closely at the water. It didn't look any different than normal water…it didn't smell any different. It rippled like water and flowed like water. He stuck a finger into the cold mere, waiting to see if it would burn as well. He pulled his finger out quickly with another yelp, sticking it promptly into his mouth to stop the burning sensation he was feeling. He sighed and wiped the soap off in the grass, trying to get it all off before getting up and dressed.

"Well…so much for that idea. He'll just have to deal with my stench because I'm not receiving third degree burns to smell _clean_." Shoving his hands dejectedly into his pockets he headed back to town.

The streets were a bustle as millions of fans began to line up, squeaming at the thought of receiving an autograph from the great Dib. He wrote all sorts of stories, so all sorts of fans gathered. Zim smirked as he watched a few begin a feud as to which genre he wrote best in and simply shook his head. Finding a spot in line, he crossed his lithe arms and cocked a hip, waiting. It was still a good hour before the author was even due to arrive and already his was at least 100 people away from seeing him eye to eye in a place he was sure the man wouldn't dare be cruel.

By the time the crowd had advanced enough where the young boy could see the face of the novelist, he had his serpentine tongue hanging from his mouth in pure boredom. What was the huge attraction with him again? Oh yeah, he wrote books. Sighing, he shook his head. It was hard to remember why the man was so popular, seeing as he couldn't afford any of the books he wrote—well, he couldn't afford any books to begin with—but still.

For some odd reason that he didn't quite understand, he became giddy and nervous and…anxious? Four obsessive women away. He was only four obsessive women away from the man and he couldn't keep the grin from his face. But as quickly as the smile came, it fell from his features as he found he had nothing to say and nothing to sign. That's when the question hit him.

"Why are you here," asked the velvety voice of the man sitting before him. Lost in thought and panic, Zim hadn't even noticed that the four females in front of him had received their signatures and moved on. Narrowing his eyes in annoyance, Dib asked again. "Why are you here, kid?" Zim stood there, his mind drawing a blank before the insults rolled out.

"I came to enjoy your company, dick." '_Oh yeah, Zim. That was great._' He resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead as his own eyes narrowed down at the man. "Is that suddenly a sin, because the way you asked your question you sounded awfully _spiteful_ about the fact that I'm gracing you with my presence." '_Yep, that'll win him over…_' Dib sat there, his glare growing more and more intense before finally he slammed his hands down upon the table and stood, towering a good foot over the teen.

"I merely wanted to know why you were standing in front of me like a slack-jawed idiot with nothing in your hands for me to sign. Last time I remember," he raised a hand and pointed at the people behind the teen, "that's what this line is there for." His voice rose only slightly as he seethed down at the teen who had dropped his gaze to the table. His pointing hand came down to grab the boy by the chin and lift his face up toward his own. "So, I'll ask you again." He held the boys gaze intensely, a slightly malicious emotion masked barely behind his amber irises. "Why. Are. You. Here?" Punctuating each word curtly, he waited for an answer from the teen.

The boy stood there, losing himself in the intensity of the older male's gaze as one of his hands slowly ascended to rest on the strong wrist of the novelist. He was at a loss for words and felt incredibly stupid for being such an ass earlier, but nothing would come to him to explain either his actions or exactly why he was standing before him now.

"I…" he started, meekly, searching for words. "…I don't know." His contact-hidden gaze averted, almost in shame, to the shrubs beside the two of them. He tried to pull away, but the strong grasp of the man wouldn't allow it. Whining, he looked back up at Dib, confusion apparent on his face.

"You're far too easy to read." Sighing, Dib sat down, keeping a firm grasp now on the teen's wrist. He turned to the owner of the bookstore behind him and whispered some request, grabbing his pen and waiting. His gaze traced back to the teen and he smirked as he spotted the blush upon the boy's features. The lady he had sent in came back, holding a book in her hands and set it down before the novelist. Dib moved his free hand to open the cover and sketched something on the inside before closing it and handing it to Zim. "There, now go home." With that simple sentence, his soft hand fell from the boy's wrist and he turned to his next customer, leaving Zim to stand there numbly. He looked down at the scripture in his hands, running his gossamer claws over the title embossed in the hard cover before turning and languidly making his way back to the park.

Settling down on his usual bench, he tilted his head and opened the book. The title was "Calling" and was written by the man who had handed him the literature. '_How egotistical of him_' Zim thought, though he really didn't mind. His eyes scanned over each line of the story, his skills at reading fairly advanced, and soon found himself frowning as the dark of night fell over the park, obscuring his vision of the text. Sighing, he lied the book down on the metal bench, staring up at the clouded skies and the few bits of stars he could see behind the precipitatious formations. The story was interesting, like the author, and was very…captivating…much like the author. His eyes narrowed as his mind continuously wandered to the man.

"Damn myself." Yawning, he rested his hands on the book and his head on his hands, curling his legs up onto the seating area. He was too tired to stargaze and the sky was too clouded, so he figured he'd try to get a bit of sleep that night.


	4. Chapter 4

Waking up the next morning, he sat up languidly, stretching with a small noise as he heard many of his joints crack. Yawning, he looked down at the book sitting beside him and blinked once or twice. It took him a moment to remember why that book was there before he grinned. Picking the text up, he stood and looked around. His eyes then travled to his stomach as it growled something fierce at him.

"Well, it is Sunday. The church in town is having one of those homeless buffets today, right?" The nice ladies at the cathedral always gave him breakfast. That's usually where he gathered his energies for the week ahead, gorging on what he was given. He began a light jog towards the religious establishment, smiling as he passed the author's apartment. Amber eyes watched him go.

"Where is he going in such a rush...?" the man asked, sipping at his coffee. He actually had a day to himself and he had no intention on waking up early. Although he was glad he at least got a glimpse of the boy at one point that day. He blinked at that thought and frowned. Since when did he enjoy the teens presence, much less his sight?

He sighed and blamed it on the early morning and what it often did to his mind. He glanced back out his window, watching the small child turn a corner. Then he remembered the church's complex with the poor and helpless and sighed again. No wonder that kid was so perky. Deciding he'd wake up and join the world, he headed for his bedroom. Maybe he'd make a trip to the church today.

Stepping into the large building, he smiled and looked around at all the stained glass windows. He enjoyed their colors as the sunlight filtered through them, staining the floor with their autumn hues. His feet lead him to the statue of Mary and he tilted his head before bowing it in silent prayer. He had promised Sister that he'd pray everytime he entered the cathedral, and so he did. Though he was still unsure as to why. He jumped when a hand was placed on his small shoulder and he quickly turned around, only to sigh in relief at the sight of Sister.

"You startled me," he breathed, giggling. "You shouldn't sneak up on people, Sister." He smiled sweetly. Sister was a nice lady, old in her years but still as vigor as the other tendees who cared for the old building. Long graying hair and wise blue eyes were the most prominent features and probably the first things a person would notice. The second would be her caring heart.

"Sorry, deary." She kissed his forehead and squeezed his shoulder lightly. "I didn't mean to scare." Coming to stand beside him, she bowed her own head in a quick prayer before looking back to the teen. "Are you hungry, Zim?" Quietly she grabbed his hand and walked in slow pace towards the dining hall, her movements careful and timed. "The breakfast is ready." Zim quietly followed, his smile never leaving his lips.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, walking in the same slow pace for her. He clutched the book in his left hand carefully, his right lacing with the old woman's as they made their way to the dining hall.

Licking his lips as his eyes wandered over the large buffet set out by the many nuns of the cathedral, he grinned and bounced a little on his toes. Zim waited until Sister told him he could sit down before quickly striding to a seat. He smiled as he waited patiently for the many other homeless arrived, knowing the nuns disapproved of eating before everyone was at the table and had said their prayers.

Looking down at his book, he smiled and flipped it open again, easily finding the dog-earred page he had left of on and picking up from the next line. '_He grinned mischievously at that. "An hour, eh?" Blaine looked at his watch, grinning further. "I think I can hold up traffic for that long." He smiled cheekily, "So what are you into, love? I need to know so I can plan our first date." His eyes glittered with happy determination. _

_Growling lightly, Alcmund looked at him. Sighing, he leaned forward. "You'll ge' me fi'ed if you do tha', you know," he whispered lowly, glaring at him. He handed him his bag of food. "Here's you' food, now ge'." He stood back up, turning to his touch pad to take another order, praying the man would leave._

_When he had leaned forward he got an insane urge to pull the man out of the window and run like the wind with his prize. The mental image of this left him giggling at the absurdity of it. He took his food and laid it on the ground disinterestedly. He was hungry for something completely different now. He grinned as he stood once more, and leaned against the window again. "Well, I guess that's a chance I'm going to have to take, love." He nodded solemnly at this, though no real regret was apparent._

_The man at the touch screen froze, his mouth open as he was in the middle..._'

"Zim?" He lifted his gaze from the page as his name was called a second time. Everyone was watching the teen, ready to pray, waiting for him to join them. Blinking once, he marked his page quickly and bowed his head, blushing deeply. He mumbled prayer with everyone and began to idly pick at his meal, lost more in thought than his hunger. Looking down, he stared at the book in his lap, running a claw along the cover.

Sighing deeply, he shook his head a little. "C'mon, Zim. Get your mind off him," he whispered to himself. "You can daydream all you want after you've fed yourself." Grinning, he dug into the breakfast layed out before him, happily devouring the eggs and bacon, followed quickly by the pancakes and then seconds.

The novelist had decided to stay inside, much more interested in the must that had come to him for his latest novel and setting right to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard at blinding speeds. Humming lightly, he paused his typing to take a sip at his coffee and a glance at the clock.

"Noon?" Blinking, he shook his head. He hadn't remembered the last time he had spent over 5 or 6 hours simply typing. Chuckling, he stood from his chair and set the cold coffee down as he headed for the bathroom. Hunger was beginning to eat at him and he never left the house without a shower. Easing the hot water on, he stripped from his pajamas and stepped in, hissing as the water first hit his shoulders before sighing softly and relaxing. Yes, a shower was what he needed.


End file.
